Glamorous Encounters
by EditionsOfYou
Summary: Small drabbles where in you have chance encounters and candid conversations with the various characters of Velvet Goldmine


Hey ya holdin? Dealin?

Sorry, I thought maybe... cause ...I've seen ya loiterin round. Ya seen me on the avenue too before?

Yeah. Its cold tonight. Ha ha. Yer a drop out then? Lookin to cop?

Had I not dropped out of school I would have been asked the question: Where would ya like to be in 10 years. I woulda said outta it. Like in a coma. I'm close enough.

Fuck school. Ya can't flunk out if ya drop out right? . But in this time in my life now I just wanna -…have a smoke .I don't wanna walk without doin somethin…do ya have a light?

Thanks .

Yeah I'm alright. If ya can't tell I'm a little off from planet earth right now- and I'm alone and so are ya. I followed yer little smoke signals over here, cause ya reminded me o a fellow stranger. An alien on this fuckin new planet where the natives don`t get ya.

* * *

Growing up I had all sorts of weird ideas in my head that nobody else thought of. I'd do a lot stuff even I wouldn't understand. Stuff I knew was sorta wrong and weird but I couldn't stop doin it cause…cause. ya too? haha

I liked to hide in places to do nothing. Shoplift shit and fill in my nails with marker so they'd look like polish, use the same marker on my eyes. And I'd never look both ways crossing the street either.

I didn't have many friends . I was shy and nervous as a boy. Not big, and friendly like I am now.

They say its the quiet ones are the ones ya have to look out for right?

I listened to the radio for hours. The loud howling songs were the best. I'd write a shit load o howlin songs and sing em to, for myself. Love songs mostly. To people who didn't exist.

I used to read a lot too -yeah- secretly ofcouse. I didn't want to be called a faggot for readin.

I don't care bout that anymore.

I'm open-minded faggot now. Both men and women are good, both are sexy. And anyways its about their fuckin minds and shit…

Anyways I used to sneak off to go to the library and read anything I could get my hands on. Adventure books, comics. Sexy books. Poems. Plays- good ones too Encyclopedias. Magazines. fuckin scraps of paper off the ground. Animals and space, and facts that used to take my mind away from where I was because when it wasn't fucked up , it was boring.

The most exciting stuff to do at the trailer park was sniff gasoline and to hose each other down afterwards. Electric and metal sounds and clanging and banging all the time…

What I learned then I can't forget, even after all shit I've done to myself.

How many demons dance on the head of a syringe? Bet ya don't know. I don't know either. Still countin.

But did ya know tha ladybugs make a yellow stink to scare away its predators? Now ya do.

And- if ya took an airplane it would take ya 19 years to reach the sun! That used to freak me out! Imagine being in a fuckin plane for 19 years only to be swallowed by the sun when ya get there! haha…

Occasionally lines of poetry still come up though I don't remember who wrote 'em and where and why. Like "yesterday upon the stair I saw a man who wasn't there."…. "the soul of the rose went into my blood"… "Terror in the house doth roar, but Pity stands before the door" and my favorite one from … Wilde I think. Yeah I said that ha ha. "The world has changed because ya are made of ivory and gold. The curves of yar lips rewrite history." Far out right?

Makes me sound real smart too. Well that's all I have, the well's fuckin dry. I couldn't learn nothing else.

My brain was fucked up by then.

* * *

The past slips away like so much powder. Gone for good. And I mean for good .ya can't weep for what ya just can't keep. I kept nothing. I had nothing . But I won't be a kid again. That good. Age of fuckin innocence my ass. Childhood was just one shitty thing after another.

But I got through by doing whatever I needed. I got ragged alot. And I got treated for it too.

I got jailed in the mad house, and sentenced to death by a thousand lightning bolts. I've must o died about a thousand times but I just kept coming back for more. That juice didn't cure me. It just made my hair fuckin blonder.

What its like?

Like being struck down from Zeus- wasn't He a fag too? All the ancient Greeks swung both ways so it didn't matter.

The shocks were like …flying into the stratosphere, mangled into pieces, and then being swallowed by the sun. Then I would crash down to earth like a fuckin asteroid."

When ya've been abused" Wilde said, ya know "ya've touched the stars." I would want to scream " Have I've touched em yet ?!" And I'd wake up choking on my fuckin tongue.

Sometimes I wake up at night still feeling it, thinking: fuckin Wilde. ya can't touch the fuckin stars ,dumbass!

* * *

I don't why they sent me away. I wasn't a good boy. I tried hard to be good, but I came out pretty shit. But in truth. ..I didn't want to be a good boy. I didn't' want to do anything I didn't know any better… Everyone thought it was my fault. They "caught" us - but it wasn't the 1st time.. The problem was I'd do secret stuff (that everyone knew about) like draw on my nails and steal on my mom's custom jewelry, that strange whorish shit .

But like I said, I didn't _want_ to do anythin with my brother. He was always a cruel nasty motherfucker . He used to kick around my stuff, and break it and yell at me, scare the shit outta me. Then he'd act too nice, say he was on my side, protectin me. It was goddamn confusing. I couldn't say it- "no" to him. My back was against the wall. I didn't to get in trouble . I didn't want to fuck up our fucked up little family. I was fuckin scared I wanted my brother to like me. I wanted some fuckin attention, even the sick kind, cause I didn't know any other kind. So I let it happen, then I'd play along try and work it to my advantage.

I still hate me for that.

Worst- when push came to shove, nobody stuck up for me. They knew, but they pretended not to know because they didn't wanna. So when they "found out" for real, it was such a drag … on them. Nobody could look me in the eye. My sister and mom acted even … jealous or something. They thought I had stole our brother away from them- me, the disgustin queer stone around their necks. So I took the fall. I had no choice cause I was small and I had hated myself so long, like a habit

I still hate them for that.

The word curt means honest, to the point. Right? My name curt rhymes with hurt. When I was alone I used to whisper chant " curt hurt" until it sounded like "hurt curt" and that was a promise for sure…. I've been hurt and that drove me outta my mind and I didn't need to be driven too far if ya know what I mean…

Sometimes I think Institution was where I belonged, cause I fit in better in there then out there. I didn't even try to escape once because nobody wanted me back… Ok once I tried to kill myself but I fucked up. I'll tell ya why if ya promise not to laugh? I wanted to end it by jumping out a window. What stopped me is I couldn't get the fuckin window open.

Now I just jump into crowds now hoping nobody will catch me.

* * *

Music is good. Cause I like it, more than anything, and that's all that matters. Its keeps me in and out. It better and realer than so-called real life, than family, than friends. Fuck to all fuckin riddance to it! I got my music. Gives a reason to keep on my merry way. Besides I can't do nothing else but make music. I ain't no fuckin typist.

More important, I don't want to do anything else.

I want to die on the stage sometimes with all the boys and girls crying and reaching their arms to me. Or even with all them scum suckers throwin bottles.

I want it to kill me. I want to die. I never loved anyone as much as I loved music …or drugs because if done right it can kill ya over and over. Like my main man… it should be my main man…Music is my main man and so's smack . Everyday we get together , have a threesome ha ha.

Audiences I dig ok even if they hate me because I don't know em really. I just can't tolerate a lot of human kind and can't tolerate myself most of the time. Usually I have to get high as hell just to fuckin withstand their bullshit for 10 minutes. People are such assholes.

Ya seem ok for some reason, but I don't know I'm pretty high.

Sometimes- I want a simple thing for someone to just _like_ me and for me even to _like_ em back. Someone who can make me _like_ myself for a while. Ha that'd be the fuckin day. Sometimes I think I should find me a big ole sweet man or beautiful chick and set up a house were I can wipe my feet on the rug. But I wouldn't count on it , cause I would probably fuck it up or once I got it I wouldn't care anymore.

I don't know why I bother thinking about this anymore, or now and talkin and talkin like a sorry sad sack. Its pointless cause ya can't change anything ,but ya can lie about it which everybody does.

I don't see the point o lyin though. The truth will get ya one way so I try not to lie. I only lie because it's the only way I know how to tell the truth.

And look at me now- for lyin the truth, I'm a far-out junkie garage star. The most successful fuck up ya ever seen haha. Like Lady liberty for all ya losers out there, holdin the fuckin torch in the dark night so come to me yer hungry, ya poor, ya damaged sad bad motherfuckers…

Ya got a pen? Yeah. I'll sign my fuckin autograph for ya. Where ya want it. Ya shirt? Ya neck? Ya back? Yeah no problem man. I'll see ya.

I exist for people like ya.


End file.
